


Spilling Forth

by jturner36



Series: Doug & Carol - by Jordan Turner [46]
Category: E.R.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 06:03:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14490426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jturner36/pseuds/jturner36
Summary: Tremendous thanks to Ruth, Claire, Shelby, Katy, and Lisa for their feedback and editing skills. Thanks also to the nFic group and all those who wrote recent words of encouragement.





	Spilling Forth

**Author's Note:**

> The show ER, and all characters and situations borrowed from it, are property of Constant-C, NBC, Warner Brothers, etc. This fanfiction is for entertainment only, and no money is made from it. The story contains graphic scenes and words which may offend some readers, and as such, it is not appropriate for children under 18. This story is not to be archived or distributed without the permission of the author.
> 
> Stories in the series:  
> A Clean Break; Stages of Ending; Retribution; Covenant; Tap-dance; Free Falling; Blink of an Eye; Vivisection; Keepsakes; In the Steam; Through the Night; Cornerstone; Domesticity; Caretaker; To CH; The Empty Space; Tenderhearted; Intoxicated; The Present; Summit; The Harbor, Part I; The Harbor, Part II; Transition Game; Expectations; Joint Venture; Kiss of Life; Residuum; Aftermath; Letters Never Sent; Wonderful Things; The Mere Fragrance; Walking the Tightrope; Vernal Equinox; Bits of Broken Glass; What it's Not; Ayant Seulement L'Imagination; Culmination; Tidings of Comfort; Parallel Hearts; Visitation Rites; Wee Small Hours; Barometric Pressure; The Emerald City; A Peaceable Start; Mother's Day; Spilling Forth; Significant Other; Doug and Carol

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Even though I'm in love  
Sometimes I get so afraid  
I'll say something so wrong  
Just to have something to say  
I know the moment isn't right  
To tell the girl a comical line  
To keep the conversation light  
I guess I'm just frightened out of my mind  
But if that's how I feel  
Then it's the best feeling I've ever known  
It's undeniably real  
Leave a tender moment alone  
\- Billy Joel  
~

"So, what are you wearing?" He leaned back on the bed, toying with the telephone cord as he propped the receiver between his jaw and shoulder.

Hearing his voice on the phone made her smile. "An old sweatshirt and some boxers," she answered, grinning broadly.

"Is the sweatshirt ripped, at least?" he asked hopefully.

She laughed in response. "Not strategically, no. How are you?"

"Fine, I'm fine. Oakland is uneventful. How're my girls?"

"Asleep, finally. They're good. Well, not totally. Kate's got another ear infection."

"How many does that make?"

Carol rolled over onto her stomach, wishing he were next to her instead of thousands of miles away. "Three so far. She's feeling a lot better, though, now that the amoxicillin has kicked in."

"Good. Tess okay?"

"Yeah, just crabbing about her teeth."

Doug nodded. "And how's my biggest girl?"

Carol sighed. "Lonely. Tired. I want you back here."

"I'll be back this weekend. I'm done here; I'll go back home Thursday night to check the house, and I'm coming to Chicago Friday."

"Friday is the realtor's open house. I don't know how I'm going to get everything done in time."

"Put it off a week, then," he suggested.

Carol shook her head. "No, no. I just want to get this done, get this house sold, and move."

"Me, too. You know..." he began, as she heard him shuffling some papers, "let me see. I think I can come in Thursday night, maybe even Thursday afternoon. Would that help?"

"It would, but you don't have to...."

"No," he interrupted her. "I want to. Let me put a fire under somebody here and I'll be there."

"That'd be great. Hey, guess what: Mark called me. John Carter's been sent away, sent to some drug rehab hospital in Atlanta."

Doug frowned at the news. "Carter? What the hell happened?"

"Well, Mark's not really supposed to say, but he told me. Carter was using prescription drugs for his pain...you know, after his attack in February. He was caught using narcotics on the job, stealing something, and Mark and Kerry, Benton and Anspaugh, they all confronted him."

"I'm...I'm really sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, I was, too. Carter, you...I just can't believe it, you know? I knew he was upset, I mean we talked when Lucy's match came in and he was upset. I talked to him, but I never thought it was this bad. No one did, really."

"Who found him using?"

"Abby Lockhart, she's a...."

"Labor and delivery nurse, right?" Doug interrupted, remembering.

"No, she used to be in labor and delivery. In fact, she helped deliver Kate. But she's a medical student; she was working in the E.R. You knew her?"

"Well, I *did* go up to labor and delivery every once in a while, you know," he joked. "They have babies there. How'd she find him?"

Carol clarified, "I don't know, Mark didn't say."

"I'm...I guess I'm surprised at Carter."

"From the sound of it, everybody was."

"Lots of changes, huh?" Doug asked.

"Yeah." Carol yawned, the fatigue of her day beginning to overtake her.

Doug chuckled. "Am I boring you?"

"No," she insisted, "I'm just tired."

"Yeah," he concurred, "you sound tired, I'll let you go. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, I've got to get some sleep."

"Okay. I'll call you with my flight, let you know when I'll be home. Good night, sweetheart. I love you."

Smiling, she replied, "I love you, too, Doug. Good night."

*****

Carol managed to keep very busy during the few days Doug was gone, making sure the house was clean and ready to be shown. She swept the front porch for the third time that week, removing the remnants of a birds' nest that was unsuccessfully started under the eaves, and she mowed the grass. Thursday afternoon, while the babies were napping, she washed the upstairs bathroom floor after their baths. The last thing she did before flopping down on the couch in exhaustion was to review her sales contract carefully, making sure things were in order.

It was after 3 p.m. when she opened her eyes, hearing Tess talking up in her crib. "I must have dozed off," she said aloud as she got up and went upstairs. She retrieved Tess and changed her. "Do you think Daddy will be hungry when he comes home?" she asked Tess as she wiped her bottom. Tess looked up at her mother and smiled, saying, "Ba-ba-ba" in a loud, cheerful voice.

"Make that 'da-da' and he'll teach you how to ride a bike before he teaches Kate," Carol advised. "Let's go cook something special." Carol and Tess went into the kitchen, and Tess was placed in her saucer with lots of toys within her reach. After she washed her hands, Carol began by sautéing onions in butter in a pot, letting them cook for a while, and then added beef stock. She chatted with Tess while she set the table, then dashed quickly into the bathroom to brush her hair, freshen her lipstick, and sweep more blush onto her cheeks. By the time she returned, she heard Kate awaken with a disgruntled wail. "Trouble's up," Carol whispered to Tess confidentially, and then traipsed back upstairs to pick up Kate with a hug. "What is it, Kate, you don't like me spending time alone with Tess?" Carol kissed her youngest and changed her as well.

By the time she brought her downstairs, Tess was starting to fuss with hunger. "Okay, okay, time to eat." She deftly placed her daughters into their respective high chairs and washed her hands again. Trying hard to ignore their impatient cries, she opened two large jars of sweet potatoes and dumped the contents into bowls, heated them briefly in the microwave, and started feeding two hungry, eager mouths. Carol could scarcely keep up with them, and laughed at Tess' lip smacks and Kate's happy squeals. They polished off a jar each, and then had some oatmeal cereal as well. "You guys are a mess!" Carol exclaimed, wiping their faces despite their protests. "Oh, my god -- the soup!" she exclaimed. She dashed up and lowered the heat as it bubbled over. "Shit. Sorry, girls, don't ever repeat that." After cleaning up the spill as best she could, she dipped a spoon into the pot, blowing on it before sipping. "Oh, that's good. He'll like it." At that moment, her heart leapt as she heard the front door opening. "Daddy's home!" she announced to the girls as she handed them crackers to munch on. "Hey," she called to him from the kitchen.

Doug walked into the kitchen looking relaxed and happy, wearing jeans and a golf shirt opened at the collar. "Good evening, ladies." He bent down and kissed Tess. "How's my lil' peanut butter?" he asked sweetly. Then, with Kate looking up at him expectantly, he laughed, and quickly added, "And my jelly?" as he kissed her. They each grinned a cracker crumb smile in return. "Carol, whatcha cookin'?" he asked.

"Soup."

Doug looked around the tiny kitchen, feeling content. The table was set with two large plates, a basket full of bread, and wine glasses. She turned to him as he pulled her close. "It smells good," he said, approving.

"It's French onion soup. Homemade. I was just going to fill the bowls and put them in the oven."

"With all that cheese on top?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling. "Gruyere."

"Well, that's my favorite," he drawled, gently kissing her neck, provoking a sigh from her.

"I know. Welcome home."

The soup was good, and Doug praised her efforts two or three times, which pleased her. What he didn't verbalize was how good it was to come home to the three of them. It sustained him, gave him new purpose at work, and gave him something to look forward to at the end of the week.

Doug played on the floor with the girls while Carol cleaned up, then they took turns giving baths, diapering, and reading a book to each of the babies. When he and Kate were finished with their short storybook, he brought her into the bedroom and checked her ears with Carol's otoscope. "She looks good, but there's still some fluid in there," he announced, walking out with her.

"Good, I'm glad she's getting better," Carol cooed as she took Kate from him. The three of them, Carol, Kate, and Tess, sat on the couch for their evening nursing and she closed her eyes. "How was your week?" she asked Doug, opening them slowly.

"Good, it was okay," he answered from the kitchen, getting a beer from the refrigerator. "You want one?" he called out.

"I'll have one later, when they're in bed," she answered.

"Oakland was okay. It's getting a bit old, I think," he shared as he reentered the room.

Carol looked up at him, surprised. "What, the job?"

"Yeah, kinda," he said, plopping down on a nearby chair. "I mean, I've done it so many times, there's no real challenge anymore. Once we get settled, once you're out there and we have some kind of...a routine, you know, I think I might want to ease out of it."

"What would you do?"

"Go back to patient care. Work in the E.R., the clinic. Work a bit on that hospice idea."

Carol smiled at him. "If that's what you want to do, it's fine with me."

"Well, I'm not sure yet. We'll see when the time is right. First, we have to take care of getting you all settled in."

"I'm beginning to think that'll take forever," Carol sighed, stroking the babies' hair.

"Why?"

"I dunno. It's just everything, selling the house, packing everything, moving. I feel exhausted just thinking about it."

Doug nodded. "It'll happen sooner than we know it. Have you called any moving companies yet?"

"Yeah, I've got three estimates."

"Including packing?"

"No, I didn't include that," she said.

"Have them come back and give us a price. I don't want you packing this place up by yourself."

"Oh, Doug, it'd cost too much."

"Let's see how much before we make that decision."

Carol noted that the girls were nursing less and getting tired. "You guys almost done? Tess is, anyway. Doug, would you take her?"

"My pleasure," he said, grinning. "C'mon, Tess my love." He took her, slack and drowsy from Carol's arms, and held her close to him. "I think we have a little time to rock before bed, hmm?" He went upstairs and Carol looked after them. Tess' eyes were almost closed, her cheek was pressed into his neck and she looked happy and content. "Daddy loves his girls," she whispered to Kate, who patted her mother's breast and continued her slow, lazy suckling.

Carol entered the girls' room just as Doug was walking out. "Night, Katie-girl," he whispered as he placed a soft kiss on top of her head. Kate, the usual night owl, was already asleep in Carol's arms. He waited in the hallway for Carol and they walked downstairs together.

"You want a fire tonight?" he asked.

"I dunno. It's not cold out. Well...why not?" she decided.

"One of our last fires in your house, hmm?"

"Yeah."

Doug disappeared into the kitchen and reemerged with an opened bottle of beer that he handed to her. "Do you want to come back to Seattle with me on Saturday or Sunday? I'm in the office, I won't be away, and it'll give you some time to look around, see the area. Decide what furniture you want to bring, where you want to put stuff."

Carol smiled, looking excited at the notion. "I'd love it. With the girls, you mean?"

"Yeah, sure I want the girls there."

"Where would they sleep?"

"I'll borrow cribs, highchairs from some folks at work. We'll manage. I'd love to have you guys out there. In fact," Doug cleared his throat and continued, "my friend, Beth Lasko, is getting married next weekend. I thought if you came out, we could go together."

Carol's expression changed ever so slightly. "She's getting married? How long have you known about the wedding?"

"I just found out yesterday. She called me in Oakland to invite us. They've decided to get married in a small church and have a reception at an inn afterward. She's just having her family, a few friends. It's her second marriage, and she didn't want to make it a big deal."

"What about the girls? Who'll watch them?"

"No one. I mean, they can come. I asked her the same thing. Let me go out for some wood, hang on."

Doug went out the back door and she heard him banging around near the woodpile. Playing with her engagement ring she pondered her new situation. She was getting ready to leave her entire world behind her and enter into Doug's where he had new friends, a new job, and a new life and in the back of her mind she wondered how she would fit in.

"Here we go," he announced as he came back in. "I got some smaller ones." Doug began building a fire and noticed that she was unusually quiet as he looked back at her. "If you don't wanna come, Carol, it's okay."

"No, I do. I don't want to hang around here with realtors walking through. I'm just thinking, that's all. You said this was Beth's second marriage. What happened with her first husband?"

"They were married for a long time, I think, but she wanted a family and he said no, and then I guess he started cheating on her, so she finally divorced him." After tucking a piece of crumpled up newspaper under his logs, he lit it, and backed up to assess the progress. Satisfied that the logs would burn, he sat next to her.

"And her fiancé...?"

"Alan? He's the head of H.R."

"So, they met at work?"

"Yeah, they did," Doug replied.

"Have they been going out long?"

:"No, um, since last year, but she was dating someone else before that and it didn't work out."

"Sounds like she didn't have too much trouble finding dates."

Doug chuckled as he stared at the fire. "I wouldn't think so, to look at her."

"What does that mean?"

He glanced up quickly, reacting to Carol's slightly sharper tone. "Well, she's, um, she's very pretty and she's smart and nice. You know, she's great. I'm glad for her, Alan's a good man, and he'll make her happy. She'll do the same for him."

"Have you guys been friends for long? You and Beth, I mean."

"Yeah, she was the first person I met out there."

"I'm wondering if I'll feel out of place at the wedding, I mean, I won't really know anybody," Carol fretted quietly.

Doug held her tighter and kissed her hair. "Hey, you'll be with me. And you'll love Beth."

"I'm sure I will," Carol answered with a smile and a kiss.

Doug stroked her cheek and returned her kiss. "So, tell me about your contract, about selling the house." Carol quickly and efficiently filled him in on everything, talking about the profit she'd hoped to make and about the plan to market the house. They talked late into the evening until the fire dwindled to ash.

*****

Their morning was hectic as they fed and dressed Kate and Tess and tidied up before the realtors came to view the house. Carol had arranged for the girls to go to her mother's house so she could take Doug to lunch and enjoy some time alone with him. When they arrived at Helen's, it was naptime for the girls and they tucked them into the port-a-cribs and tiptoed out. Doug gave Helen his cell phone number in case she needed to reach them, and he and Carol set off for Lou Malnati's.

"This is our first date in a long time," Doug noted as they sat down looking over the menu.

"Yeah, I'm glad, too. It's hard being stuck in the house with them, waiting for you to come home."

"Sorry," he replied sheepishly.

"No, I didn't mean for it to sound that way. This is nice, Doug. I'll miss this deep dish pizza when I leave."

"You can actually have it delivered, did you know that?"

Carol looked skeptical. "You're kidding."

Doug grinned. "Nope, 1-800-LOU-TO-GO. Pizza, ribs, cheesecake, hot dogs, you name it."

"So if I get homesick, I just need to make a phone call, hmm?" she laughed.

"Sure, I got it covered," he reassured her.

"Thanks, that's nice to know. What do you want to do after lunch?"

He thought about it a moment and became serious. "Can we go to the cemetery? I want to pay my respects to Mary."

"Sure, Doug," she answered, taking his hand in his and squeezing it gently.

So, after lunch he stopped at a local florist shop and bought a bouquet and they drove wordlessly to Graceland Cemetery. It was a perfect Chicago spring day, with sunny skies and a light, gentle breeze. When they got out of the rental car, he looked at the directory, and then took Carol's hand as they walked amongst the gravestones. "It should be here, in this row."

"There won't be a stone yet, right? Just a marker?"

"The stone'll have her husband's name on it. There it is," he said, pointing.

He let go of her hand and walked a bit ahead of her, stopping near a newly dug grave. Carol stayed behind him for a moment, and then took a step forward, caressing his arm. "Hard to believe she's gone."

"Yeah," he agreed. He bent over to place the small bouquet of flowers against the gravestone, and stood up again. "She was somethin'."

"Her husband only died, what...two years ago?"

"I think they were married like...forty years. Can you imagine?"

"That's...that's wonderful." She glanced up at his face and was touched by his sadness. "Doug, I'm sorry. I know she was a good friend."

Looking up at her, he smiled wistfully. "She saved my life. I was a mess when I met her. I was scared, you know, when I called her. I didn't really think anything, or anyone, could help me. I figured I was just going to live until I killed myself. "

Carol's head jerked up in response to his statement. "You don't mean...?"

"No," he answered quickly. "No, I never thought of suicide. I just...I was on a collision course with disaster. Drinking, you know, sex. Shit, half the women...." He stopped, not knowing if this subject was taboo with her.

"Half the women...?" she continued, looking for him to finish his statement.

"They were just...they could have been dangerous. I didn't know them, didn't know anything about them. I'd wake up, drunk, wondering where I was and who I was with. I'm lucky I didn't get an STD. HIV."

Carol nodded, understanding. "What made you go to Mary?"

He stared past Mary's grave. "I think...Nadine, you know, that girl. Seeing her die like that. It was a waste. Just a waste. And then, after, I didn't really have anyone's respect. And I knew that I didn't have yours. Losing yours, knowing what I must have looked like to you, that was...I knew what you saw wasn't what I wanted to be. So I called her. I mean, I looked in the phone book." He laughed at the absurdity. "First few times I went to her office, I wouldn't even answer her questions. Just sat there, waiting for the time to go by. I'd talk about my theories on strep throat and tonsillectomies."

"Um hmm."

"She never gave up on me. She was a helluva woman." Doug took a deep breath and sighed. "Ready to go home?"

Sensing she would hear no more on the subject, she nodded. "Sure."

They walked away, hand in hand, and got into the car. Doug started the engine, and as he pulled out of the parking space, she spoke.

"Doug...stop a minute. Can we go back out?"

"Hmm?" He looked at her, puzzled.

"I want to stop by my dad's grave," she explained.

"Oh. Sure. I didn't know he was buried here."

"He is. I just don't know where."

Doug put the car back in drive, parked and turned it off. "Let's go back to the directory."

They got out again and in a moment were searching for the location of her father's grave. Carol's finger finally traced over a name. "Here it is: Joseph Hathaway."

"Did I know that his name was Joseph?" Doug asked.

"I don't know if I ever mentioned it before. He's in a whole different section, over there," Carol answered, pointing past the parking lot, on the other side of the cemetery.

"Let's go." Doug took her hand and they walked quietly until they got to his row under a large oak tree, and then searched for his gravestone. "Here, look here."

"Wow, it's small."

"It is," Doug concurred. "'Joseph S. Hathaway.' What's the 'S' stand for?"

"Sebastian."

Doug nodded, stealing a look at Carol's face. It was hard for him to read her expression, though, because her head was bowed and her hair was caught up in the breeze, obscuring her eyes.

Carol sighed. "I've...this is the first time in my life I've ever been here."

"Didn't your mom take you?"

"Uh uh. She never did. I guess I...we never asked."

"Was he a good father?"

"Yeah, I think. The times I remember. But most of my childhood...I grew up without him. I really don't remember what it was like to have a father. I mean, my uncles would...they were around, but it's not the same thing."

"We have that in common, huh?" he asked.

"I guess we do. They take care of it at least."

"Hmm?"

"His grave. They take care of it, but there are no flowers. So many of the others, you can tell people visit them, but not his." Carol stepped back, sitting finally at the base of the oak tree, staring at her father's grave. Doug joined her, sitting next to her and taking her hand in his.

"When do you think your mom was out here last?"

Pursing her lips, she shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe last week. Maybe the day he was buried. We just didn't talk about it, you know?"

"Do you ever want to? Talk about your father, I mean?"

"I don't know. I...when I was in therapy, you know years ago, I did. He...my psychiatrist, Dr. Bickleman, wanted me to talk about him a lot. But other than that, no."

Doug waited a moment, then looked down, away from Carol. "You could...you know, I mean if you wanted...if you needed to, you could talk to me." He peered up at her, waiting.

Carol looked surprised. "Oh. I...what do you want to know?"

"It's not what I want to know, really. Just...if you ever want to talk, I'm here."

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. "I know. There was so much, back then, to talk about. You know, after I...after I tried to kill myself. I think I did twenty-five years of talking in twelve months."

"Um hmm," Doug said, understanding. "So what'd you say?"

"Hmm?"

"What'd you say? To Bickleman? About your dad, about...everything."

Reaching up, she pulled her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "I guess I said everything, eventually."

"You know...you've never told me. We've never talked about it, really."

Looking wistful, she agreed, "No, we never have."

"I mean, you don't have to, Carol. You don't, but.... Is it something you don't want to tell me? I mean, is it private?"

"No, no," she insisted quickly. "Not private like I can't tell you. I just don't really dwell on it."

"I don't want you to dwell on it," he clarified. "I just...I always...you never told me what you were thinking...feeling back then. I knew we had...that I had ended things badly with you, I knew that I hurt you. But I never knew, really, why...I never knew why."

"Do you want to? Know why?"

"I do," he admitted.

"Okay, then. I'll tell you everything."

*****

Carol drove cautiously, pulling up five minutes early for her first appointment with her psychiatrist. She checked her appearance in the rear view mirror and frowned. Her hair seemed lifeless; her skin was pale and dry. She dug around in her purse for some lip-gloss and looked in vain for some blush for her cheeks, but found none. Her heart began to pound. This is silly, she told herself. It's just talking to some guy. He doesn't have to know anything; I don't have to tell him anything. I'm only here to avoid being put in the loony bin. Carol smirked at the thought, but it faded slowly. "Am I crazy?" she asked her reflection. No, she wasn't, she knew. Just stressed out and depressed. Dr. Alan Bickleman would see her for a few sessions, and then she'd be cleared to go back to work. Back where she belonged.

As she exited the car, she looked down the street surreptitiously. Would anyone know why she was entering his office? Would there be lots of patients there, patients who would nod knowingly, "Ah, there she is: The suicidal failure."

Taking a deep breath and exhaling noisily, she climbed the four steps and read the sign: "Patients of Dr. Bickleman please enter and ring bell on the table." Okay, she'd do just that. She pushed the door open, entered the warm vestibule, and opened another door that lead to a hallway. On the left side was a small office, and sure enough, there was a table with a bell on top. She rang the bell, took her jacket off and waited, standing.

The door behind the desk opened and a large man in his mid-fifties appeared, balding and heavily bearded, with thin wire-rimmed glasses and a cheerful smile. "Carol Hathaway?"

"Yes, hi," she answered, extending her hand. "Dr. Bickleman?"

"Yes, call me Alan. Come on in. Cold outside this morning?"

"Yeah, a little." Carol, having expected a clinical, sterile-looking room, was surprised when she entered his office. There were two comfortable chairs facing a couch on one side of the room and a desk and file cabinet on the other. Large portraits of children adorned every wall, and sunlight filtered through the thin blinds, giving the room a warm, comfortable look. "These pictures...did you take them?"

"Yeah, years ago. They're my children. Sarah is the oldest, Paul, and then John."

"They're beautiful."

"Thank you. They take after their mother."

Carol nodded and waited, not quite sure what to do next.

"Can I take your coat?" he asked.

"Sure, yeah," she answered and shrugged out of it, handing it over with a timid smile.

Alan hung it up on a hook near the door and motioned for her to sit. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

Carol sat on the couch and he took a seat opposite her. She looked around nervously, wondering if she was supposed to start by giving him her life story while he nodded and wrote. But he quickly put her at ease by talking first.

"You're here, Carol, because of a referral from County General Hospital. I'll tell you what I know, just to save you some time, and then we can talk about why you're here and what you want to accomplish during our sessions together."

"Okay," she consented.

"It says in your file that your highest level of education is a Master of Science in Nursing, you were a charge nurse who was admitted to the emergency room at County after ingesting alcohol and barbiturates. Says you were treated, put on a ventilator, and that the toxicity left you in a coma for 36 hours. After you regained consciousness, no residual effects of the narcotics or alcohol were noted, and you were treated for a urinary tract infection and had counseling with a diagnosis of depression. Currently taking an antidepressant...um, Prozac."

Taken aback by his casual recitation of the most horrendous occasion of her life, she nodded, stunned.

"You live with a roommate...."

Carol hastily corrected him. "I did, but she moved out."

"Okay, you live alone, and right now you're on a medical leave of absence. Sound about right?" Carol nodded again. "Okay. Um, maybe you know why you attempted suicide, maybe you don't, but before we get into it, I want to know about you. Tell me about the Carol Hathaway I'd have found working in the E.R. prior to all this."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you. I am...well, I was a charge nurse, yes. I worked in the E.R. I'm responsible for the nursing schedule, and am a sort of liaison between the doctors and the nurses and the nurses and upper management. I, uh, order everything, oversee the inventory. Uh, I don't know. I mean, that's about it."

"You've told me about work. How about you?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, truly stumped. "That is about me."

"That's your job, but what about you? What about you, your family, your friends?"

"Oh. Okay. Well, um, I'm the youngest of three girls. My older sisters...Rachel and Margaret, they used to live in Chicago, but they've moved. Rachel lives in Massachusetts, and Margaret is in the U.P. of Michigan. Um, there's my mom. My dad died when I was little. I was...I mean, I am dating a man now, he's a surgeon." Carol stopped and looked down at her hands. "I don't know what else you want to know."

"Well, that's good for a start. Do you like your job?"

"I loved it. I mean, I do love it, but it's...it gets to me sometimes."

"Patients, you mean, bad outcomes?"

"No," she responded quickly. "No. I mean, you feel badly if a patient dies, but you do your best and you move on. No, the demands. I mean, doctors...they think all nurses do is blindly follow orders, but that's not true. I mean, we have to know almost as much as they do, we're responsible, too, if a doctor makes a mistake. We constantly have to check up on them, make sure they order the right thing, that they're not distracted. Then there are the med students and interns and the residents. They're always making mistakes, always looking for you to mop up after them. Some are better than others, but it's still hard."

"What do you enjoy about your job?" he asked pleasantly.

"What do I enjoy?" she parroted, thinking. "I...I like...working in sync with a good doctor, knowing you've outsmarted death for that day or that hour or minute."

"Does that happen a lot?"

"No. It depends on the doctor. Some docs, they just bark out orders. Some, though, sometimes...if you're with a doctor that you really click with, you work as a team, they view you as an asset."

"Is that how the doctors, your co-workers...how they view you?"

Gazing out the window, she shrugged. "I don't know. Some of them resent me. Maybe they think I got the job because they couldn't find anyone else. I don't know, like I...maybe I didn't deserve it. Maybe I wonder about that, too." Her voice failed her and her eyes filled briefly, before she composed herself and recovered.

Bickleman cleared his throat. "So, you're a charge nurse, but you say you feel like you don't deserve the job? How can that be? How can they make such an error in judgment about you?"

"I don't know. It's how I feel, because of what they don't know about me."

His eyebrows raised, he asked for clarification. "What don't they know?"

"At work, you know, they think I'm so...they think I'm what they see at work, but I'm not," she tried to explain.

"How?"

"At work, I...I'm in charge, you know? I do what has to be done, I take care of everything. Take care of patients, of doctors, of nurses, of families. I take care of medicine, supplies. Everything."

"And how are you different?"

"Because I...." Carol felt the tears welling up in her heart and although she tried to subdue them, she could not and they spilled forth. "Sometimes I feel so...like I'm so alone. I take care of everything, but no one takes care of me. And sometimes, I'm...I feel like I'm suffocating. Like I don't know what to do next. The smallest things overwhelm me."

"At work?" he asked, handing her a box of tissues.

She accepted it, and dabbed at her eyes. "No, it happens other places. Sometimes at home. Sometimes...I mean, it's ridiculous. I'm in the grocery store and I'm looking for a particular kind of soup. I can't find it, and I'm suffocated, just...you want to cry. A can of soup for God's sake."

"Have you felt depressed? Do you recognize when you're depressed, Carol?"

"Yeah. I know it. I mean, I try to hide it."

"Is this a recent thing?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, the depressed part. I don't know. Maybe I've felt like this before, but I've never thought about...ending my life. Sometimes I'm so sad and I feel so unloved."

"What was different, what changed now that was different?"

Her brown eyes were large as she confessed, "I couldn't stand it anymore."

On the way home, she drove past the hospital. She could almost feel the warmth of the radiant heaters in the building, smell the disinfectant. Tag, Mark, Susan. Doug. They were all in there, working. And Carol was outside, fighting for a life she wasn't even sure she wanted.

When she got home, Carol ignored her mother's carefully cooked dinner and went straight to her bedroom, shucking her clothes and climbing naked between the sheets. She fell asleep almost immediately, but woke up only hours later as she tossed and turned, throwing the covers off as the heat kicked on. Opening her eyes, she knew she'd had a nightmare, but she didn't care to dwell on what it might have been about. Sometimes in her dreams she was at work and she forgot where everything was. Other times she was watching a trauma, unable to move. Every nightmare was the same: She was paralyzed and she didn't know how to start living again.

*****

Doug listened to everything intently, letting her take the lead. When she stopped, he held her to him and stroked her back. "I guess what you didn't see, what you didn't know, was that you were so good at what you did. You were without a doubt the best nurse in the E.R., probably in the hospital." She scoffed at him and rolled her eyes, but he remained steadfast to his opinion. "I'm not just saying it, Carol. Given a choice, every doctor in that emergency room would want you there. You're smart, you're fast, and you know how to take care of the patients and their families."

"Thank you," she said sincerely, kissing his ear before relaxing into him.

"I guess what we didn't know then, where we all made the mistake, was by not noticing you were so overwhelmed. You had this way of always handling any crisis, every problem. We were all so used to it, I guess we never thought of the strain it took on you."

"It wasn't just work, though. I mean, I was depressed, but there were other things that were hurting me more."

He became quiet again, listening.

*****

By their third session together, Dr. Bickleman began probing more into her personal life.

"I think I had a screwed up childhood. Maybe growing up without a father and with a bitter, neurotic mother does stuff to a kid."

Bickleman nodded, encouraged to hear this introspection from her. "Tell me about your father."

"My father...he died when I was little. I was almost five."

"What do you remember about him?"

Carol smiled. "He was a big man. He worked in a meat packing plant, on the third shift, so he slept a lot during the day. I would be in charge of waking up Daddy. That was my job. He'd be sleeping and I'd open the door and tiptoe in. He would hear me, but pretend to sleep and I could climb in with him and just...cuddle."

"He sounds like a wonderful man."

"I don't know. I mean, he died and there's so much I don't remember. I remember little things, like snapshots: Playing ball, getting ice cream with him. Um...I remember sitting on his lap during Fourth of July fireworks, maybe. But I don't remember *him*."

"How'd he die?"

"I don't know. My mom said it was an accident, but I don't know. I think...I think he killed himself. Maybe it wasn't accidental at all."

"What makes you think that?"

"My sisters, things I heard in bits and pieces way back then. Maybe that's why my mom freaked. Maybe I did what he did; maybe we both tried to kill ourselves, but he succeeded."

"I think you should find out."

"No, uh uh. No, I can't. She doesn't talk about it, she won't. She hates talking about him, says he was unreliable, bitches about being left with no money, with no skills, with three girls to raise. No, I can't."

"So, before you said that all this had an impact on you. Tell me about that, if you can. I want you to tell me about some of your past relationships."

"I have a few close friends, and there are people...."

"No, I'm sorry, I wasn't clear. Tell me a bit about your relationships with men. Romantic relationships."

"Oh. Sorry, uh, well, I've been dating John -- everybody calls him Tag -- for a while now. I met him at the hospital, I was coming off a relationship and he...he asked me out, and we've been dating ever since."

"Tell me about him, if you're comfortable."

Pausing for a moment, Carol tried hard to come up with words that would convey what she knew and felt about him. "Tag...he's such a nice man. He's an excellent surgeon, too, so smart. He's, uh, he's steady, you know? Very dependable."

"Are you just dating now, or are you serious?"

"I don't know. He's serious. I mean, we both are, but I think I need some time. You know, I'm still working through all this. We were living together for a while, but something...but I went back to living by myself, and then got that roommate a few months ago."

"And before John...Tag...were you dating then?"

"Yes, I was. I had a...I had a relationship, um, with another doctor, Doug. He, um, he was...it wasn't really a great...I mean, it was great when things were going well, but then...there was...he was, um, he was unfaithful. He cheated on me. We dated for two years, on and off, but then I...well, really he...we just broke it off."

"I see. This was a good thing, I take it, ending this relationship?"

"Yeah," Carol quickly answered. "It was a...I didn't want to, um.... Yes, it's a good thing we're not dating anymore."

"So, you got out of a relationship that wasn't good for you and you're in a relationship with a man who cares about you. That doesn't sound screwed up, Carol, that sounds pretty levelheaded to me."

Carol nodded robotically, her poker face successfully hiding everything.

*****

She was reluctantly faithful to her appointment times with Bickleman, feeling wary as she never knew what he'd drag into the conversation. Carol wouldn't admit it to him, but she wasn't being completely honest about Doug during her sessions. Not once did she allow his importance in her life to be known. Bickleman was zeroing in on him, and it made her uncomfortable.

Carol was sitting on his office couch, nestled within the cushions like a small child, a large throw pillow across her lap. The coffee mug she was holding helped warm her hands and she embraced it as she spoke. "I don't think it's really relevant. It's not any one person. What I mean is, Tag is trying his best, right now, and I'm thwarting his efforts. I know I am."

"Why would you do this?"

"Because he doesn't know me. I don't want anyone to really know me, because if they knew what I thought about and how I really felt about things...."

"If they knew?"

"I don't want them to know. I don't."

"Carol, that's not only a control thing. If you don't allow them to see who you are, you'll never form any meaningful attachments. Isn't that what's bothered you most?"

"You mean about Tag?

"No, about Doug."

"But I'm not talking about Doug."

"I am. You've skirted the issue for weeks. You've brought him up nearly every time, yet you tell me he was insignificant in all this. You've told me enough for me to surmise that Doug had difficulty with intimacy. At least that's what you appear to be accusing him of."

Carol became defensive. "I didn't know I was accusing him of anything. Just stating fact."

"No, it's not fact when you're talking about someone's emotional health. That's not fact. You don't know that he can't fully love. He may have truly loved someone in his past, or he may in the future."

"Yeah, but how can you tell? I mean, what if you think it's love, but it's not? Or...what if it is love and you don't know it?"

"I think you do know it. I think you can tell. If you're treated with love, with respect, with some...tenderness, then I think that's a start."

"What if you think no one will ever love you, though? What if that's the problem?" Carol leaned forward to make her point. "I don't know. I think about it. Maybe it had no effect on me, growing up without my father. But you know what I wonder? If he left her, did he love her? I mean, could he really have loved her if he killed himself? And...if he didn't love her, if he didn't...did he ever love me?" She took a sip and challenged him. "Do you think we should cut people slack?"

Dr. Bickleman pondered this, interested. "I'm not sure I follow you. In what context?"

"Well, we all have issues." Carol left it there, hanging in the air like a spider's sticky thread. It was her usual tactic; leaving just enough floating around to tweak him, a taunt for him to draw her out, a way for her to maintain the illusion that she was in control.

He waited her out, though, not willing to let her volley it back so quickly. Carol took a long drink of the coffee, audibly swallowing. "Maybe people can only do what they can do," she added finally.

"In what context?" he repeated.

"Ah, fuck," she muttered bitterly.

With no trace of impatience in his voice, he suggested, "Carol, if you want me to know something, you'll have to come out and tell me. I can't guess everything."

Nodding, she closed her eyes and fell back. "Maybe I was trying to make him into something that he didn't know how to be."

"Maybe he was a schmuck who didn't care?" Bickleman countered.

"Maybe he was," Carol conceded.

"Carol, here's the thing that I think you're missing: Toss him aside for a minute. What is it about you that you allowed yourself to be treated like that?"

She shrugged and her eyes filled. "What if he really did love me and he didn't know how to show it? What if I let myself be treated that way because I'm so screwed up that I wanted to convince myself...."

"Convince yourself of what? Carol, do you ever feel loved?"

"No," she whispered. "And if I felt it, I don't really think I'd know what it was." A long pause followed. "I think we're done for today."

Bickleman raised his eyebrows. "We have more than twenty minutes left. Why are we ending early?"

"Because I can't talk about this."

"We've been at this for a while, Carol. To me, this is the fundamental issue."

She got up and put her cup on his desk. "I'll see you Wednesday."

He nodded. "Wednesday, then."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Yes I know I'm in love  
But just when I ought to relax  
I put my foot in my mouth  
Cause I'm just avoiding the facts  
If the girl gets too close  
If I need some room to escape  
When the moment arose  
I'd tell her it's all a mistake  
But that's not how I feel  
No that's not the woman I've known  
She's undeniably real  
So leave a tender moment alone  
But it's not only me  
Breaking down when the tension gets high  
Just when I'm in a serious mood  
She is suddenly quiet and shy  
Leave a tender moment  
Leave it alone  
I know the moment isn't right  
To hold my emotions inside  
To change the attitude tonight  
I've run out of places to hide  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Doug listened respectfully, not sure whether to offer his thoughts or let her continue, but as Carol fell silent, he spoke. "When did you first feel it? I mean, feel it and believe it?"

"Love?"

"Um hmm."

"I always knew I could love. I mean, I know I loved my father, my mother. I knew I loved you, even when I wouldn't admit it."

"No, that's not what I mean. When did you feel loved...by me?"

She lay back on the grass and looked up at the sky, thinking. "I don't know. There were times, with you, times when I swore you loved me. I'd see something in your face, in your eyes. But then, you never said it back then. And the way...you know, the things that happened between us...."

"My unfaithfulness?" he interrupted, forcing her to be honest.

"Yes. Every time I convinced myself that you loved me, you'd cheat on me. Then I'd doubt everything."

"Did you always doubt it?" he probed quietly.

"No. Remember the time, when I came to your place after I lost Tatiana?"

"Yeah, sure. I remember that."

"That night, with everything that happened...with you, the way you took care of me, our drive back to my place...I knew then. I saw it then."

"Um hmm," he responded. "And since then?"

"Well, of course, there were other times but...when Tess was born...wow," she said, smiling warmly at him. "When she was born and I saw her, I knew. I mean, I knew it and it was real. Your love for me was vivid, you know? It was real when I saw her face. Because...because she was you, part of you, and you gave her to me so willingly, so...unselfishly. I was sad, you know, having them without you. I was, but...I knew then, holding your daughters, that you'd have done anything for me, that you loved me more than anyone in the world because you gave them to me."

Doug looked away and smiled, nodding. "How long did you see Bickleman?"

"Until I got engaged to Tag. After that, I stopped."

"So it was after you and I...after our, uh, clandestine meeting in your apartment. Did you tell him? About us, about, you know, about...." Doug grinned, remembering.

"About us in the shower? Not in explicit detail," she smiled back. "I just told him I'd cheated on John. That I came clean and confessed."

"What'd he say?"

"He said that telling John was selfish on my part. That it should have been my burden, not his. I guess back then, I felt so uncertain because...what was hard to handle was sorting out my feelings for John when you were always there, always in my line of sight."

"And were you being selfish?"

"I thought I was being honest."

"What'd Taglieri think?"

Carol reached for Doug's hand and held it tightly. "He thought you were a bastard. And he proposed to me the night after I told him."

*****

Months after her suicide attempt and months into her therapy, Carol was learning to confront her fears and taking charge of her relationships, both at work and in her personal life. On Thanksgiving, feeling as though her dishonesty was detrimental to her emotional balance, she told John about her one night affair with Doug. After he stormed away, angry and hurt, Carol caught up with him in his office. He couldn't look at her, could barely even speak to her. Just as she began walking out, thinking he had every right to break up with her due to her disclosure, he picked up the phone, turned his back on her, and dialed, reminding her that they were due at his parents' house at precisely 1 p.m. the following day.

Their post-Thanksgiving luncheon with his parents was strained. Carol was quiet, although his parents didn't pay enough attention to her to realize it. No, they were too busy basking in their son's reflected glory. Did you know, Carol, that our John could have gone to school anywhere he wanted to? That his grades were that high? Did you know that he could have had an academic as well as an athletic scholarship? Did you know, Carol, that you're so lucky to have him, because he is flawless?

Carol picked at her food and nodded politely. John was quiet, but respectful to her, no doubt driving mental images of Doug making love to her from his mind. So, the couple sat, each lost in their own thoughts, while Doug Ross remained a silent, invisible third party at the table.

It was snowing on the ride home to their apartment and he had to concentrate on his driving to keep them safe. The bonus was that the weather gave Tag a good excuse to ignore her.

By the time they opened the door and hung up their coats, Carol was frustrated enough to confront him.

"Is this how it's going to be? You won't talk to me unless we're at your parents' house?"

John turned to her, still hurt and upset. "It's gonna take me a little...I mean, I love you, Carol. I want to be close to you, but all I can think about is Ross...you with Ross."

She moved toward him meekly. "I'm so sorry, Tag. I...I can't defend what I did. I'm sorry."

Tag nodded, looking out the window into the quiet street below. "Bastard."

Carol averted her eyes.

Needing to make his feelings known, Tag continued. "I have a dim view of men who play games like he did. Fucking women, throwing them aside when he's finished."

Her timid, conciliatory demeanor disappeared and was replaced by anger. "Doug never 'fucked' me, Tag. Don't ever say that again."

"What do you call it, then?" he challenged her.

"I don't know what I call it," she admitted in a bitter voice, and walked out of the room, into the bedroom. Tag, Bickleman...what did they know, she thought? What could they know about a woman's heart, about what it's like to make love to a man who takes your breath away? Feeling his weight on top of you, knowing he wants you. Opening yourself up to him, hearing his sigh of delight. Having him inside of you, wanting to keep him there forever, wanting to swallow him up. What would they know about Doug, about his quiet voice, about the secrets he would whisper deep into the night? Doug wanted to be loved. He wanted something more than sex, she was sure of it. He wanted someone, someone who was his, who belonged to him, who made him feel loved and wanted. There were times at work, times when she caught him watching her wistfully. She remembered, too, when she was with him, when he would reach for her hand as they walked down the street and kiss it wordlessly. Then, there were the nights when they had made love and he would say her name so softly. He knew what he was doing, she realized. He watched, he waited, and when she was at her most naked, at her most vulnerable moment, he would say, simply, "Carol," and when she opened her eyes he could see into her soul. He had complete control over her. She'd fight it at first, but in the end she would look at him, and she'd swear that he loved her then. And, he had made her fall in love with him.

Carol cried, missing him, loving him despite all the resentment and the hurt she felt. She never heard Tag as he crept closer, feeling chagrined and fearful that he'd pushed her too far.

"Carol? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

Turning away from him, she wiped his tears and nodded.

John sat on the bed and pulled her to his chest, holding her tightly. "I'm sorry. I love you. I mean, God, I love you. I get jealous, thinking of him being with you. And I get furious when I realize how much he hurt you."

Burying her face into his shoulder, partly to find refuge there, partly to avoid his kiss, she replied, "Tag, don't. I mean...I'm sorry, too. If I could change things, I would. I'm sorry. It was...I am so sorry that I hurt you, that I betrayed you. It won't ever happen again."

As he held her, he knew that he needed to press on, to get a commitment from her. The words rushed out of him. "Carol, we've been back together now, and...we talked about it before, I know, but I need to ask you. I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved any woman. Please, Carol, please...would you marry me? Would you be my wife?"

She looked up at him with her tear-stained face, seeing the helplessness, and the love, in his eyes. I've hurt him so much, she thought. I can't hurt him anymore. Stability, love, security. All those things flashed through her mind, and as her heart was still weighing his proposal, she heard her voice responding, "Yes. Yes, Tag, I'll marry you."

*****

Doug frowned, listening, feeling unjustifiably jealous. "You told me once that you loved him. Was it true?"

"Yeah. I mean, I loved him, but I wasn't in love with him. And, all the time I was with him, I was in still in love with you."

"So you said yes to him...because...?"

"Because I didn't know what else to do. Because I was tired of being alone, tired of fending for myself. I wanted someone to take care of me. It's not noble, I'm not proud of myself, but it was more for my own selfishness than it was for love."

"You know...I can't take back those years, the things I did to hurt you. But I did love you. I didn't know it at the time, it was an immature sort of love. But I loved you. I know now, looking back, how much I loved you. As a lover, and as a friend."

"I know," she said, accepting his kiss. "I know. Let's go back, let's get Tess and Kate. We can finish talking about this later." She got up and led him to the car. They drove in silence save the thoughts of what they'd shared that afternoon.

*****

The rest of the day went by quickly as they took the girls for a walk and fielded calls from realtors who made appointments to show her house. They took some time to pack suitcases for their trip to Seattle and gave the house a final once-over before they left. After dinner and baths, the girls went to sleep quickly, as did Doug and Carol, who were tired.

When she got to bed, she dove under the covers, laughing, demanding that he warm her up. Doug did his best to obey her command and they soon began caressing and kissing each other, feeling a closeness of spirit that was heady and new.

"I'm glad you told me all that today," Doug told her.

"Are you? It seems like so long ago."

"Yeah, well I'm glad to know it all, just the same." He moved on top of her and held her face tenderly in his hands, kissing her eyes and then her lips before he spoke again. "Mary told me once that she thought I was trying to dominate you. You know, that I used sex to make you submissive to me because I didn't know how else to communicate. Like I wanted you to give me your heart, but I didn't really know what to do with it once you did, so I made it about sex. She said, because I didn't know how to love with my heart, I did it with my body. I don't know about that, I mean I didn't want to think about that too much. You...from what you told me, I can't really figure out...what I mean is, you've said before that it wasn't because of me that you took those pills, but today, you told that you'd talk about me with your shrink. Was it me, Carol? Did I cause all that...uncertainty, that depression?"

Carol's face became soft and kind. "No. It wasn't you. I was confused about you, but it was deeper than that. I was so overwhelmed, I was so tired of being unsure and afraid and stressed, that I didn't think I could live anymore. And now, I'm so glad I did, because look at us now. Having you...our two daughters...I don't think it gets any better than this." She kissed him deeply, rolled on top of him, and made love to him with joy and passion.

*****

Carol awoke early the next day and smiled when she felt him behind her, his hand heavy on her thigh, his body keeping her so warm. She slid out of bed and wrapped her robe around her, walking past the living room couch piled high with their packed suitcases and the girls' diaper bag. Today was the day they'd fly to Seattle, where the girls would see their new home.

Doug woke up only after he heard the babies calling from upstairs, and he and Carol fell naturally into their morning routine. After the girls were taken care of, he took out the trash, checked the backyard to make certain it was clear of debris, and went to the store to pick up some baby food and diapers. By ten o'clock, they were on their way to the airport.

Carol noticed that Doug wasn't driving immediately to O'Hare, but was traveling east, toward the lake. "Where are we going?" Carol asked.

"To the cemetery. We have time."

"For Mary?"

"No," he answered. "Your dad. Their grandfather."

Carol looked over at him lovingly. "We don't have to do this. I mean, they won't know."

Doug smiled, reaching for her hand as they pulled into the cemetery. "We'll know." He parked the car and took Tess out while Carol got Kate. Doug reached into the back, behind his seat, and took out a small bouquet of flowers he'd bought at the store.

"Oh, Doug," Carol said quietly.

"From his granddaughters," Doug explained quietly. They walked together toward the large oak, and when they got there, Doug put Tess on the grass, then reached for Kate and did the same. "Girls, you had two grandfathers. This is where your Grandpa Joe is buried. You won't know either of them, but they both would have loved you."

Tess looked up at her father solemnly while Kate pulled her hands back, away from the grass, studying it with suspicion.

Doug handed the flowers to Carol and tears fell as she laid them gently against her father's gravestone. "I loved him, Doug. I mean, I don't even remember much, but I know that I loved him."

"He loved you, Carol. I'm sure he did. I do, too." Doug smiled and took her into his arms. "In a way, hearing about what you went through, looking back on everything, it's amazing we're even here, together."

"Yeah," she agreed. "With Tess and Kate, too. We're a family."

"You know, I always wanted a family," he confided. "I mean, it was just me and my mom and we would do things, you know, she tried to make my childhood normal. But without a father, it didn't seem right. Not that you can't have a family with just your mother," he added hastily. "No, but I wanted my dad and I never had him."

"Me too. I wanted to feel loved and snuggle into his arms and know that nothing could hurt me."

"I'll protect you," he whispered, holding her close to his heart. "You and our girls. Carol, I love them. And I love you." He kissed her gently, then they picked up their daughters and walked away as the soft rain began to fall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
And if that's how I feel  
Then it's the best feeling I've ever known  
It's undeniably real  
Leave a tender moment alone  
You got to leave a tender moment alone  
Leave a tender moment  
Leave it alone  
Leave a tender moment alone  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The end


End file.
